


Inside Looking Out

by Fidget_the_Crazy



Series: FD Drabbles [1]
Category: The Legend of Zelda & Related Fandoms
Genre: Character Study, Drabble, ish
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-17
Updated: 2021-01-18
Packaged: 2021-03-15 15:17:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,552
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28815498
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fidget_the_Crazy/pseuds/Fidget_the_Crazy
Summary: Linked Universe from a different perspective.
Relationships: Fierce Deity & Link (Legend of Zelda)
Series: FD Drabbles [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2115579
Comments: 6
Kudos: 50





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [His Stolen Heart Still Beats](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24532123) by [Glau (Glaucus_Atlanticus)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Glaucus_Atlanticus/pseuds/Glau). 



> This was a brain child drabble inspired by Glau’s *His Stolen Heart Still Beats*. Go read it, It is such a good fic! It kind of came to me thinking “what would it be like, being in LU in the perspective of the Fierce Deity? What would he think of the bois? What is his relationship with Time?” So this happened! Enjoy!

He was trapped, yet free.

He had so much freedom and wide space in this own little prison void He inhabited, but it was so suffocating and claustrophobic. He was vaguely aware of the mask that He inhabited’s surrounding environment. It felt wooden, small, and smelled like old wooden furniture with a hint of dustiness. 

He didn't remember what interacting with others was like anymore. He only remembered interacting with a small boy that had been shaped into a weapon, but that boy didn't like Him. Well, that boy was a man now; a married man that lived on a ranch, safe from his trauma. Safe from _Him_. 

He didn't understand why the Boy was so afraid of Him. No, it wasn't hatred. It was fear. He was sure he would never understand, as the Boy would never rely on Him for anything anymore. Perhaps it was the power that He granted him? He thought He was helping. Perhaps He gave him _too_ much power in so much that it spooked him. Perhaps it was because He saved him in an unconventional way. The Boy’s eye had been scarred and ruined, so He saved it. And with that, He decided to mark him, so He would know if he was hurt. The eye became pure white and able to see the truth, also allowing Him to see through the Boy’s eye, which He supposed the Boy didn’t appreciate. 

So when He felt cool fresh air waft from above and something warm and calloused - a hand - grab the mask, He was utterly surprised. It was always a strange sensation to be held, or even feel anything in that regard. It was like hands on his shoulders or cupping his face. If surrounded by something else, it felt like a blanket. But it was always faint, just like everything else. He couldn't hear or feel the outside well and he was practically blind to the outside, but he had a fairly good sense of smell. He was set in another container; it smelled leathery, and felt malleable, something He was familiar with. It seemed the Boy was going traveling again, and whatever he was doing, he felt the need to bring Him. This must be very important. He was tempted to see what the Boy was seeing, but decided against it. Maybe later. He knew He wasn’t going to leave the bag for a while. 

He didn’t expect to feel very prominent magic at the very beginning of this journey. He felt it grow closer and wash over Him, like going through a barrier made of water. He heard distant, muffled voices. Male voices. They weren’t alone this time.

This would be interesting. 

* * *

They had been on the road for some time. He heard repeating words, like “veteran”, “pup”, and “sailor”. They were so frequent that He guessed they were nicknames for the Boy’s traveling companions. He understood that they were all named Link, at least, that’s what He took from the voices that sounded like they were under shallow water. His curiosity took over, so He had taken advantage of the Boy’s eye and had looked at his surroundings when he had night watch. He saw the others the Boy was traveling with. They were all other boys, just like him. He could tell that the Boy had a fondness for the Wolf especially. They felt similar. He saw things that He could appreciate in each of the eight others, and could tell that the Boy had respect for them too. 

What made Him sad was that him taking over the Boy’s eye had spooked him. The Boy had taken His prison out of his bag and started talking to Him. He talked to Him! It had been so long since He had even heard his voice so clearly! But the words he spoke stung. The Boy said that He had no place here, that he didn’t plan to be taken over by Him any time soon, and that hopefully he would never have to rely on Him. Was that what this was about? Scared He might possess him like what Majora did to that poor imp? He had never meant to take over the Boy’s body in any way; He only wanted to help in what ways He could, even if He had to give the Boy some guidance. He was supposed to be fierce, yet He was being berated like a disobedient mortal schoolboy by someone who never grew up properly. 

He wanted to say He was sorry. But the Boy wouldn’t listen.

* * *

It was surprising, when He was taken out of the bag for a second time. He heard the word “sailor” said many times. He was set down on a flat wooden surface, and could feel two sets of eyes watching; one with curiosity, one with wariness. 

_“I know melodies that can make you know peace, and I have items that could drive a man mad…”_

_Drive a man mad._ Those words He did _not_ like. Whether someone went mad when they used His power, that is their doing, not His. He wished He could tell the boy otherwise. He knew the Boy would refuse to heed Him in any way. 

The one with curious eyes intrigued Him, however. It was the same cautious curiosity that the Boy had when He had first been given to him. Perhaps he would understand? He just needed to see if he was willing to listen.

* * *

It was… He didn’t know much time passed, but it was a short while after being taken out of the adventure pouch a second time that He felt hands hold the mask again. They felt smaller than the Boy’s hands, just like the first time He was held by him. He couldn't see what this new child looked like, but He could hear his voice clearly this time. 

“The Old Man told me you were dangerous,” this new curious soul asked, “I probably shouldn't be talking to you, but I want to know. Are you listening?” 

He couldn’t hold in His excitement. “𝐼 𝒶𝓂 𝓁𝒾𝓈𝓉𝑒𝓃𝒾𝓃𝑔.”

“I can feel a lot of power coming from you. I know that power can be used in many awful ways.” 

“𝒯𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝒾𝓈 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝒻𝒶𝓊𝓁𝓉 𝑜𝒻 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝑜𝓃𝑒 𝓉𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝓊𝓈𝑒𝓈 𝓂𝓎 𝓅𝑜𝓌𝑒𝓇. 𝐼 𝓃𝑒𝓋𝑒𝓇 𝓉𝓇𝒾𝑒𝒹 𝓉𝑜 𝒽𝒶𝓇𝓂 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝐵𝑜𝓎 𝒾𝓃 𝒶𝓃𝓎 𝓌𝒶𝓎.” 

“Who’s the Boy?”

“𝒯𝒽𝑒 𝑜𝓃𝑒 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝒸𝒶𝓁𝓁 𝓉𝒽𝑒 ‘𝒪𝓁𝒹 𝑀𝒶𝓃’.”

The sailor thought about His words. “I think he’s scared of you.” 

“𝐻𝑒 𝒾𝓈.” 

“It’s for a good reason I think. But you don’t seem like a bad guy. But I’ve been wrong about that before…” 

“𝐼 𝒸𝑒𝓇𝓉𝒶𝒾𝓃𝓁𝓎 𝒹𝑜𝓃’𝓉 𝓉𝒽𝒾𝓃𝓀 𝐼’𝓂 𝒶 𝒷𝒶𝒹 𝑔𝓊𝓎.”

“What are your motives?”

“𝒯𝑜 𝒽𝑒𝓁𝓅.” 

“In what way?”

“𝐻𝑒𝓁𝓅 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝑜𝓃𝑒𝓈 𝓌𝒽𝑜 𝒶𝓇𝑒 𝒾𝓃 𝓃𝑒𝑒𝒹 𝑜𝒻 𝒿𝓊𝓈𝓉𝒾𝒸𝑒.” 

“What other motives?”

He thought briefly. What else did He want? “𝐼 𝓌𝑜𝓊𝓁𝒹 𝓁𝒾𝓀𝑒 𝓉𝑜 𝑔𝑒𝓉 𝑜𝓊𝓉 𝑜𝒻 𝓉𝒽𝒾𝓈 𝓅𝓇𝒾𝓈𝑜𝓃.”

“That’s a prison? … well, I guess that’s obvious.”

“𝒜 𝓅𝑜𝓌𝑒𝓇𝒻𝓊𝓁 𝒹𝑒𝓂𝑜𝓃 𝒾𝓈 𝓇𝑒𝓈𝓅𝑜𝓃𝓈𝒾𝒷𝓁𝑒 𝒻𝑜𝓇 𝓉𝒽𝒾𝓈. 𝐼 𝒹𝑜𝓃’𝓉 𝓀𝓃𝑜𝓌 𝒽𝑜𝓌 𝓉𝑜 𝑔𝑒𝓉 𝑜𝓊𝓉, 𝑒𝒾𝓉𝒽𝑒𝓇.” 

“Maybe…” the Sailor halted that train of thought. “I shouldn’t dabble in things I don’t know enough about.”

“𝒯𝒽𝑒 𝓁𝑒𝒶𝓈𝓉 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝒸𝒶𝓃 𝒹𝑜 𝒾𝓈 𝓅𝓊𝓉 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓂𝒶𝓈𝓀 𝑜𝓃. 𝐿𝑒𝓉 𝓂𝑒 𝓈𝓉𝓇𝑒𝓉𝒸𝒽 𝒶 𝒷𝒾𝓉.” 

“...what’s in it for me?”

“𝒴𝑜𝓊’𝓁𝓁 𝒻𝑒𝑒𝓁 𝓇𝑒𝒿𝓊𝓋𝑒𝓃𝒶𝓉𝑒𝒹. 𝐼 𝓅𝓇𝑜𝓂𝒾𝓈𝑒 𝓃𝑜 𝒽𝒶𝓇𝓂 𝓌𝒾𝓁𝓁 𝒸𝑜𝓂𝑒 𝓉𝑜 𝓎𝑜𝓊𝓇 𝒸𝑜𝓂𝓅𝒶𝓃𝒾𝑜𝓃𝓈 𝒾𝒻 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝓁𝑒𝓉 𝓂𝑒 𝓈𝒾𝓂𝓅𝓁𝓎 𝓉𝒶𝓀𝑒 𝒶 𝓈𝒽𝑜𝓇𝓉 𝓌𝒶𝓁𝓀 𝑜𝓊𝓉𝓈𝒾𝒹𝑒.” 

The Sailor didn’t do anything for a good long while, besides set him on what felt like grass. He was amazed how the Boy didn’t wake up yet. 

“I don’t know if I can trust you.” 

He wilted. He may not ever get to be let out again. “𝐼 𝓊𝓃𝒹𝑒𝓇𝓈𝓉𝒶𝓃𝒹.”

Another bout of nothing. He felt a hand pick him up again. He felt cautious eyes scan him, looking for any ill will. Sympathy. 

The Sailor put the mask on. The void He lived in vanished, and was replaced with the sight of a campfire with boys sleeping soundly surrounding it. He looked down at His hands and His body to see it was that of a young adolescent. He walked over sleeping bodies and stepped outside of the circle. He planned to simply walk the perimeter and appreciate the surroundings and sensations He dearly missed. 

_“This feels so strange,”_ the Sailor commented. 

_“ 𝒟𝑜 𝓎𝑜 𝓌𝒶𝓃𝓉 𝒸𝑜𝓃𝓉𝓇𝑜𝓁?”_ He asked gently.

_“Uh… That would be nice, where are you taking me?”_

_“𝒥𝓊𝓈𝓉 𝑜𝓃 𝒶 𝓌𝒶𝓁𝓀 𝒶𝓇𝑜𝓊𝓃𝒹 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓅𝑒𝓇𝒾𝓂𝑒𝓉𝑒𝓇.”_

The Sailor analysed his words. _“I”ll let you do that, just don’t get carried away.”_

He could tell the Sailor was worried. _“𝐼 𝓅𝓇𝑜𝓂𝒾𝓈𝑒 𝐼 𝓌𝑜𝓃’𝓉.”_

He stepped through the forest, listening to the chirping of crickets and night time creatures sounding off, and the trees swaying in the wind. He drew a breath of fresh air and let it out of His... the lungs. He felt so fresh, like He was taken out of a small box and given permission to stretch His limbs. He wanted to run, but He didn’t think the Sailor would like that. He did speed up His walking pace, however. He stretched the arms of the Sailor’s body, spun in place, jumped a bit, and took large strides just for the fun of it. This felt more free than being in that mask. There was no feeling of claustrophobia, no feeling of being trapped in a closed space for too long, He felt so _free_. He sighed contentedly when he reached the end of the circle around camp that he made. He longed to go another round. He knew He shouldn’t. 

_“Can I take control now?”_ The Sailor asked, _“... is that even possible?”_

He slipped to the back of the Sailor’s mind allowing him free reign. 

_“This feels so weird,”_ the Sailor remarked. He swung his arms, liked feeling power surge through his body. _“It feels great! … I should probably take this off.”_

He dreaded that moment where he would be pulled away from his new host. _“𝒲𝒾𝓁𝓁 𝓉𝒽𝑒𝓇𝑒 𝒷𝑒 𝒶𝓃𝑜𝓉𝒽𝑒𝓇 𝓉𝒾𝓂𝑒 𝓌𝒽𝑒𝓇𝑒 𝓌𝑒 𝒸𝒶𝓃 𝒹𝑜 𝓉𝒽𝒾𝓈 𝒶𝑔𝒶𝒾𝓃?_ ” 

… 

_“𝒮𝒶𝒾𝓁𝑜𝓇?”_

Sailor’s eyes were focused on the Boy. He was awake. And both could tell that he was not happy. 

“Sailor,” the Boy raised his hands as if he were dealing with a dangerous beast, “take the mask off.” 

Oh, did He had _words_ for this Boy. He wanted to speak to him as an equal, He was ready to give him a reprimand that the Boy would always give him. _“𝐼 𝓌𝒶𝓃𝓉 𝓉𝑜 𝓈𝓅𝑒𝒶𝓀.”_

The Sailor reluctantly relinquished control, and He stepped up to the Boy. The Boy recoiled in fear, grabbing for any sword that was near him. “𝒴𝑜𝓊 𝒶𝓇𝑒 𝒶𝒻𝓇𝒶𝒾𝒹 𝑜𝒻 𝓂𝑒.” 

“Take the mask off.” 

“𝐿𝑒𝓉 𝓂𝑒 𝓈𝓅𝑒𝒶𝓀 𝒻𝒾𝓇𝓈𝓉.” 

**“Take the mask** **off.”**

**“𝓛𝓮𝓽. 𝓜𝓮. 𝓢𝓹𝓮𝓪𝓴.”**

The Boy shut up in fear. He knelt down in front of him. 

“𝒴𝑜𝓊 𝓃𝑒𝓋𝑒𝓇 𝓁𝒾𝓈𝓉𝑒𝓃 𝓉𝑜 𝓂𝑒 𝓌𝒽𝑒𝓃 𝐼 𝒶𝓅𝑜𝓁𝑜𝑔𝒾𝓏𝑒. 𝐼 𝒶𝓁𝓌𝒶𝓎𝓈 𝓌𝒶𝓃𝓉 𝓉𝑜 𝓉𝑒𝓁𝓁 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝓉𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝐼 𝓃𝑒𝓋𝑒𝓇 𝓂𝑒𝒶𝓃𝓉 𝒽𝒶𝓇𝓂 𝓉𝑜 𝓎𝑜𝓊. 𝒴𝑜𝓊 𝒶𝓇𝑒 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝑜𝓃𝓁𝓎 𝑜𝓃𝑒 𝓉𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝒽𝒶𝓈 𝑒𝓋𝑒𝓇 𝓊𝓈𝑒𝒹 𝓂𝓎 𝓅𝑜𝓌𝑒𝓇 𝒻𝑜𝓇 𝓈𝑜𝓁𝑒𝓁𝓎 𝑔𝑜𝑜𝒹 𝒾𝓃𝓉𝑒𝓃𝓉𝒾𝑜𝓃𝓈. 𝐸𝓋𝑒𝓇𝓎𝑜𝓃𝑒 𝑒𝓁𝓈𝑒 𝓊𝓈𝑒𝒹 𝓂𝑒 𝓉𝑜 𝑔𝑒𝓉 𝑔𝒶𝒾𝓃 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝑔𝓁𝑜𝓇𝓎. 𝒴𝑜𝓊 𝓃𝑒𝓋𝑒𝓇 𝓌𝒶𝓃𝓉𝑒𝒹 𝓉𝒽𝒶𝓉, 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝐼 𝑔𝒾𝓋𝑒 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝓂𝓎 𝒽𝒾𝑔𝒽𝑒𝓈𝓉 𝓇𝑒𝓈𝓅𝑒𝒸𝓉. 𝐵𝓊𝓉 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝓉𝓇𝑒𝒶𝓉 𝓂𝑒 𝒶𝓈 𝒾𝒻 𝐼 𝒶𝓂 𝒶 𝓇𝑒𝓁𝒾𝒸 𝓉𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝒹𝑒𝒸𝑜𝓃𝓈𝓉𝓇𝓊𝒸𝓉𝓈 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓈𝒶𝓃𝒾𝓉𝓎 𝑜𝒻 𝓂𝓎 𝒽𝑜𝓈𝓉. 𝒲𝒽𝒾𝒸𝒽 𝐼 𝒶𝓂 𝓃𝑜𝓉, 𝓐𝓷𝓭 𝔂𝓸𝓾 𝓴𝓷𝓸𝔀 𝓽𝓱𝓪𝓽. 𝐼 𝓈𝒶𝓋𝑒𝒹 𝓉𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝑒𝓎𝑒, 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝓂𝒶𝓇𝓀𝑒𝒹 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝒻𝑜𝓇 𝓎𝑜𝓊𝓇 𝓈𝒶𝒻𝑒𝓉𝓎. 𝐼 𝓌𝒶𝓃𝓉 𝓉𝑜 𝓂𝒶𝓀𝑒 𝓈𝓊𝓇𝑒 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝒶𝓇𝑒𝓃’𝓉 𝒾𝓃 𝒹𝒶𝓃𝑔𝑒𝓇. 𝐵𝓊𝓉 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝓃𝑒𝓋𝑒𝓇 𝓁𝑒𝓉 𝓂𝑒 𝒽𝑒𝓁𝓅. 𝒫𝑒𝓇𝒽𝒶𝓅𝓈 𝐼 𝓃𝑒𝓋𝑒𝓇 𝓈𝒽𝑜𝓊𝓁𝒹 𝒽𝒶𝓋𝑒 𝒹𝑜𝓃𝑒 𝓉𝒽𝒶𝓉, 𝒷𝓊𝓉 𝐼 𝒹𝑜𝓃’𝓉 𝓇𝑒𝑔𝓇𝑒𝓉 𝓈𝒶𝓋𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝓎𝑜𝓊𝓇 𝑒𝓎𝑒.”

“You use my eye to see what I see, and that’s not okay!” 

“𝐼 𝒹𝑜 𝓉𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝓉𝑜 𝓀𝓃𝑜𝓌 𝓌𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝒾𝓈 𝒽𝒶𝓅𝓅𝑒𝓃𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝓉𝑜 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝓌𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝓌𝑒 𝒷𝑜𝓉𝒽 𝓃𝑒𝑒𝒹 𝓉𝑜 𝒷𝑒 𝒶𝓌𝒶𝓇𝑒 𝑜𝒻. 𝒜𝑔𝒶𝒾𝓃, 𝓕𝓸𝓻 𝔂𝓸𝓾𝓻 𝓼𝓪𝓯𝓮𝓽𝔂. 𝒴𝑜𝓊 𝓂𝒶𝓎 𝓃𝑜𝓉 𝓉𝒽𝒾𝓃𝓀 𝒾𝓉, 𝒷𝓊𝓉 𝐼 𝒽𝒶𝓋𝑒 𝓉𝒶𝓀𝑒𝓃 𝒶 𝓁𝒾𝓀𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝓉𝑜 𝓎𝑜𝓊. 𝐿𝒾𝓀𝑒 𝒶 𝓈𝑜𝓃. 𝒦𝓃𝑜𝓌 𝓉𝒽𝒾𝓈, 𝐵𝑜𝓎. 𝒴𝑜𝓊 𝒹𝑜𝓃’𝓉 𝑒𝓋𝑒𝓇 𝒽𝒶𝓋𝑒 𝓉𝑜 𝓊𝓈𝑒 𝓂𝓎 𝓅𝑜𝓌𝑒𝓇 𝒶𝑔𝒶𝒾𝓃. 𝐵𝓊𝓉 𝐼 𝒾𝓂𝓅𝓁𝑜𝓇𝑒 𝓎𝑜𝓊; 𝒹𝑜𝓃'𝓉 𝒶𝓈𝓈𝓊𝓂𝑒 𝐼’𝓂 𝑜𝓊𝓉 𝒻𝑜𝓇 𝒷𝓁𝑜𝑜𝒹 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝒸𝒶𝓇𝓃𝒶𝑔𝑒. 𝑀𝓎 𝓌𝒶𝓎𝓈 𝓂𝒶𝓎 𝒷𝑒 𝓂𝑒𝓈𝓈𝓎, 𝒷𝓊𝓉 𝓂𝓎 𝓂𝑜𝓉𝒾𝓋𝑒 𝒾𝓈 𝒿𝓊𝓈𝓉.”

“Just?” 

“𝒥𝓊𝓈𝓉𝒾𝒸𝑒 𝒻𝑜𝓇 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝒾𝓃𝓃𝑜𝒸𝑒𝓃𝓉.” 

The Boy remained silent. 

“𝐻𝒶𝓋𝑒 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝓃𝑜𝓉 𝓃𝑜𝓉𝒾𝒸𝑒𝒹 𝓉𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝐼 𝒽𝒶𝓋𝑒 𝓃𝑒𝓋𝑒𝓇 𝒽𝓊𝓃𝓉𝑒𝒹 𝒾𝓃𝓃𝑜𝒸𝑒𝓃𝓉 𝒷𝓁𝑜𝑜𝒹?”

More silence. 

“𝐼 𝒹𝑜 𝓃𝑜𝓉 𝓂𝑒𝒶𝓃 𝒽𝒶𝓇𝓂 𝓉𝑜 𝓎𝑜𝓊, 𝑜𝓇 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓅𝑒𝑜𝓅𝓁𝑒 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝓁𝑜𝓋𝑒. 𝒴𝑜𝓊 𝒶𝓇𝑒 𝒶 𝑔𝑜𝑜𝒹 𝓂𝒶𝓃, 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝒽𝒶𝓋𝑒 𝓌𝑜𝓃 𝓂𝓎 𝓇𝑒𝓈𝓅𝑒𝒸𝓉. 𝐵𝓊𝓉 𝐼 𝓉𝒽𝑜𝓊𝑔𝒽𝓉 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝓀𝓃𝑒𝓌 𝒷𝑒𝓉𝓉𝑒𝓇 𝓉𝒽𝒶𝓃 𝓉𝑜 𝓉𝒽𝒾𝓃𝓀 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓉𝒽𝑜𝓊𝑔𝒽𝓉𝓈 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝒽𝒶𝓋𝑒 𝒶𝒷𝑜𝓊𝓉 𝓂𝑒.”

“You are a war god, aren’t you?” 

“𝒩𝑜𝓉 𝑒𝓍𝒶𝒸𝓉𝓁𝓎. 𝒜 𝑔𝑜𝒹 𝒻𝑜𝓇 𝒿𝓊𝓈𝓉𝒾𝒸𝑒, 𝒾𝒻 𝒶𝓃𝓎𝓉𝒽𝒾𝓃𝑔.”

He heard the Sailor comment something about that being ‘so cool’ in the recesses of the mind. He stood up from where He knelt. 

_“𝐼 𝓉𝒶𝓀𝑒 𝓂𝓎 𝓁𝑒𝒶𝓋𝑒. 𝒯𝒽𝒾𝓃𝓀 𝒶𝒷𝑜𝓊𝓉 𝓉𝒽𝑒𝓈𝑒 𝓌𝑜𝓇𝒹𝓈, 𝐵𝑜𝓎.”_

_“Can I take the mask off now?”_

He really didn’t want to go back. He kept himself from protesting. _“𝒴𝑜𝓊 𝒸𝒶𝓃.”_

He felt the dreaded pull away from him, and the vision of the night covered forest faded away, replaced by the white void he already grew bored of. He felt his senses dull, and His mind cloud up.

He heard talking. Was the Sailor getting reprimanded for something He did? He hoped not. He was handed back to the Boy and placed in the bag again. 

Hopefully the Boy will heed his words. 

* * *

The Boy had started to listen to Him more. That was a good start! He was more open to keeping the eye He saved open, unless they were in civilization. He could tell he was still afraid. The Sailor also let Him stretch whenever he had night watch, as long as He promised to help with lookout. They enjoyed talking to each other; He learned many things through him. They both had their suspicions that the Boy knew of their antics, but never did anything. He was glad that he was growing more comfortable. It was strange to feel like He belonged somewhere, but He knew it wouldn’t last long. 

The next time He was taken out of the bag by the Boy’s hands was when the heroes were fighting something dark, and sinister. It reminded Him of Majora. When he fused with the Boy’s body and mind, he felt apprehension, but not exactly fear. 

“𝒴𝑜𝓊 𝒶𝓇𝑒 𝓃𝑜𝓉 𝒶𝒻𝓇𝒶𝒾𝒹 𝒶𝓃𝓎𝓂𝑜𝓇𝑒,” He said. 

“I…” the Boy hesitated, “I suppose I’m not.” 

He took a long breath of air, and looked at the opponent they were facing. “𝐼 𝒸𝒶𝓃 𝓈𝑒𝑒 𝓌𝒽𝓎 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝒸𝒶𝓁𝓁𝑒𝒹 𝓊𝓅𝑜𝓃 𝓂𝑒. 𝒰𝓈𝑒 𝓂𝓎 𝓅𝑜𝓌𝑒𝓇 𝓌𝒾𝓈𝑒𝓁𝓎. 𝐼 𝓀𝓃𝑜𝓌 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝓅𝓇𝑒𝒻𝑒𝓇 𝓉𝑜 𝒽𝒶𝓋𝑒 𝒸𝑜𝓃𝓉𝓇𝑜𝓁.” 

He let the Boy take over, only guiding where the sword swung when his fighting stance slipped, which wasn’t often. He watched how the other boys fought with him, some saying a ways away, too cautious to take any chances. It was an exhilarating fight, it was full of surprises that even He didn’t expect. This demon knew how to pull its punches, that’s for sure. It’s defeat was still inevitable, with the Boy using His power and the help from the other heroes. It was a battle that ended gloriously, if He had an opinion on it. He hadn’t felt so alive in years, it had been such a long time since He had a proper fight. He looked at the other boys that surrounded him; they looked frightened, the Wolf especially. He felt the Boy’s hands reach for the mask. He wanted to stop him, but He knew better. 

It was back to being in his prison again. But He had hope. 

He was being handed to another pair of hands. They felt… almost more rough than the Boy’s hands. This must be who they called the Veteran. Or maybe the Warrior, he wasn’t sure. He felt like He was going through a magic assessment with how he was being looked at. He heard a muffled comment about His magic being peculiar and dark, but not malicious. Good. At least someone understood. He felt a presence that seemed fae-like come near and assess Him further. The Fairy didn’t like him, but agreed He wasn’t evil. He was handed back to the familiar hands of the Boy and was set back into his bag. 

* * *

  
The other heroes left for their Hyrules after celebrating their victory. He still seemed distant from the Boy, but he seemed to trust Him more than he did previously. The Boy’s saved eye was open for most of the time, and his wife was surprised that he had it open for so long. 

“Our relationship is still complicated,” he heard the Boy say, “but we’re reaching an agreement of some kind.”

He wasn’t put back in the box, thank Farore. He was instead placed somewhere else; the floor was still wooden, but He could tell it was relatively high up. He would hear a door open and close and voices, So somewhere in the house, possibly on a shelf. He guessed the Boy’s bedroom shelf, but that was before very small, tiny hands had grabbed Him off the highest shelf in the living room.

Just how many years had passed?

“𝒜𝓃𝒹 𝓌𝒽𝑜 𝓂𝒾𝑔𝒽𝓉 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝒷𝑒, 𝐿𝒾𝓉𝓉𝓁𝑒 𝒪𝓃𝑒?” He was careful to be gentle with His voice, he didn’t know if this was the Boy’s child, or someone else. 

The hands startled and dropped Him, but they returned to pick Him up. “I didn’t know father’s mask could talk!” He should have checked in more with the Boy, he would have known that he would be a father by now if he did. 

“𝐼𝓉 𝒽𝒶𝓈 𝒷𝑒𝑒𝓃 𝒶 𝓁𝑜𝓃𝑔 𝓉𝒾𝓂𝑒 𝓈𝒾𝓃𝒸𝑒 𝓌𝑒’𝓋𝑒 𝒷𝑒𝑒𝓃 𝒾𝓃 𝒸𝑜𝓃𝓉𝒶𝒸𝓉, 𝐼 𝓈𝓊𝓅𝓅𝑜𝓈𝑒 𝓉𝒽𝒶𝓉’𝓈 𝓂𝓎 𝒻𝒶𝓊𝓁𝓉. 𝒟𝑜𝑒𝓈 𝒽𝑒 𝓉𝓇𝑒𝒶𝓉 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝓌𝑒𝓁𝓁?” 

“Yeah, I have to work on the ranch, he always makes it a game! I love hearing his stories, too.” 

“𝒲𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝓀𝒾𝓃𝒹 𝑜𝒻 𝓈𝓉𝑜𝓇𝒾𝑒𝓈?””

“Stories about his adventures! They’re so cool, I wish to be like him some day.” He wondered how the Boy thought of that. 

“I remember him telling me how you helped him when he was in trouble, is that true?” 

“𝐼𝓉 𝒾𝓈.” 

“Wow! Thank you for keeping my father safe!”

He smiled at the little girl’s words. She seemed so happy. He heard the Boy’s voice in the distance. Not exactly angry, but not pleased either. Who would be if you found out an old dangerous relic was in the hands of a child? He felt bigger hands grab him and set Him back on the shelf. He was thankful that the Boy’s voice wasn’t raised, but he could tell she was getting scolded. 

The only other time, and final time, He was picked off from the shelf was when the Boy went out to war. It was their final battle together; the Boy was severely wounded beyond repair, and he was dying. He kept him alive as long as He could as they fought, but once they and their allies were left standing, once the Boy took off the mask, he collapsed. And he didn’t wake up again. 

He wasn’t one to mourn, but He mourned the loss of someone so great. The Boy used his power effectively and wisely, and never went mad for it. He thought of the Boy’s wife and child, how they would take the news. For the first time in His too long life, He felt remorse. 

Gloved hands picked him up from the wet grass. They placed Him inside of a bag that contained other things, most likely the Boy’s other belongings that he brought with him to battle. He was surprised that they didn't put the mask on out of curiosity. They must have seen what it did to the Boy and were spooked. 

The next time He was in the hands of someone, they belonged to the Boy’s wife. He could hear her muffled weeping. He wasn’t experienced in consoling others, as he was used to fighting rather than feeling. He did tell her that the Boy’s last thoughts were of her and their child, and that he was a respectable man. She kept him close for a time, finally putting him back on the shelf after she had calmed down. 

It would be a very long time before he would be found by someone as good as a person as the Boy.   
  


* * *

  
He didn’t know how many years had passed. It had been a long time after he had been moved somewhere else. The place He now inhabited smelled dusty, and of old wood. He forgot what talking to others was like, he remembered talking to a young Sailor that gave him a chance, and a Boy that slowly grew to trust him over many many years. He forgot what touch was like. He felt so trapped, so alone. He was somewhere hidden, he guessed that he wouldn't be found by anyone unless they digged. 

It took a very long time for that to happen. The hands that picked Him up reminded him of the Boy; they were calloused, but still relatively young. He was also reminded of the Boy’s wife. 

“The Old Man told me about you,” this newcomer said, “He said you were dangerous. Then he used you in the final battle. I’m surprised he didn’t go mad. I was scared of picking you up at first.” 

“𝒮𝒶𝒾𝓁𝑜𝓇?” 

“No, they knew me as the rancher. I didn’t know he knew about you, too.” Ah, so this was the Wolf. Seemed fitting, the Boy had a soft spot for him, must have been because of blood relations. 

“What are you really?” 

“𝒜 𝑔𝑜𝒹 𝑜𝒻 𝒿𝓊𝓈𝓉𝒾𝒸𝑒, 𝓉𝓇𝒶𝓅𝓅𝑒𝒹 𝒾𝓃 𝒶 𝓅𝓇𝒾𝓈𝑜𝓃.” 

The Wolf never put on the mask in his life. He did take Him to the forest, where He could feel the Boy’s presence, and the radiating power of the Master Sword. He stayed there for a very very long time, until he was found by someone else, likely another hero. He wondered which one this was. The hands that took the mask were peculiar; one was smooth, and one was more rough than a hand should be. It was a strange duo, he figured it was the scarred one that was called the Cook. 

The Cook called upon his power many times, but not too much to make it unhealthy; he used Him to fight off monsters, help the people remaining in his Hyrule, sometimes even scaring others by just walking into town casually with the mask on. He didn’t know how he felt about being used for pranks, but at least his power wasn’t being abused. That much. He must admit, this Wild Child found ways to use His power for the most unconventional reasons. 

“You’ve been trapped in that mask for a very long time, haven't you?” The Wild Child asked once. 

“𝐼 𝒽𝒶𝓋𝑒.” 

“Is there any way I can help get you out?” He wanted to help Him? That… was quite thoughtful. 

“𝐼’𝓂 𝓃𝑜𝓉 𝓈𝓊𝓇𝑒 𝓉𝒽𝑒𝓇𝑒 𝒾𝓈 𝒶𝓃𝓎 𝓌𝒶𝓎 𝓉𝑜 𝓇𝑒𝓋𝑒𝓇𝓈𝑒 𝓉𝒽𝒾𝓈.”

“I’m sure there is! We just need to find the method first! If people can resurrect Ganon, then I think I can figure out how to get you out of there.” 

The Wild Child kept Him with him, researching possible ways to help Him get out. They talked with one another, trying to figure out what they could do. He told the Wild Child about Majora, and how she was the one responsible for trapping Him in the mask, and how He wasn’t familiar with her power. 

Funny enough, he had Majora’s Mask as well. A nullified one, yes, but it was still the real thing. But they couldn’t do anything much since her presence was gone, save for some left over magic. It did give the Wild Child a guideline of what types of magic he would be dealing with. 

After many months of research and consultation with his Zelda and others, the Wild Child finally found a spell that could possibly get him out. 

“This must be what it feels like when people resurrect some evil being,” the Wild Child commented as he set up for the ritual, “Only you’re not evil. This is gonna be fun! I hope I don’t regret it later or botch it up.”

“𝐼 𝒽𝑜𝓅𝑒 𝓃𝑜𝓉,” He replied. 

He couldn’t see what was happening, but He could feel being placed on a cold surface, and something being recited in an old tongue He thought had died out. The Wild Child’s pronunciation was awful; He was surprised that he had conjured up any magic for the ritual. It surrounded Him like a blanket, He felt the thrum of power flow through Him. Then He felt a tug, taking Him by the hand to lead Him out, yet he didn't know where it would lead Him. The tug turned into a pull when He didn’t follow it. It was strange, but it excited Him. Perhaps this was going to work! He already could see only white, but that soon faded away to the darkness from the back of His eyes, and when He opened them again, it was like someone had placed the mask over their face, only He felt… free. It was just Him, in the same room with the Wild Child. 

Said Child was staring at him with awe. “I don’t know what you went through or what you saw, but what I saw was spectacular.” 

He cocked His head to the side. “𝐻𝑜𝓌 𝓈𝑜?” His voice startled Him a bit. It wasn’t something He had heard in a long time. 

“It was a bit of a light show to be honest, very bright, and magic everywhere, it was like pulling out the Master Sword again, but a lot more showy!” The Wild Child stepped up to him casually, not caring that he was talking to a god. “You still remind me of the old man, and I kind of expected you to look like this, but it’s still very stunning! You’re HUGE!” 

He hummed and smiled at the energetic boy. He looked to the exit door of the room that they were in, and stepped towards the door. 

“I should have thought about what would happen next,” The Wild Child said, “I only had this moment in mind and was stupid enough to to not plan ahead.”

“𝒴𝑜𝓊 𝓉𝒽𝒾𝓃𝓀 𝓅𝑒𝑜𝓅𝓁𝑒 𝓌𝒾𝓁𝓁 𝒷𝑒 𝒶𝒻𝓇𝒶𝒾𝒹,” He guessed. 

“Yeah, among other things.”

“𝐼𝓉 𝒾𝓈𝓃’𝓉 𝓃𝑒𝒸𝑒𝓈𝓈𝒶𝓇𝓎 𝒻𝑜𝓇 𝓂𝑒 𝓉𝑜 𝓈𝓉𝒶𝓎 𝒾𝓃 𝒸𝒾𝓋𝒾𝓁𝒾𝓏𝒶𝓉𝒾𝑜𝓃, 𝐼 𝒸𝒶𝓃 𝓅𝓇𝑜𝓉𝑒𝒸𝓉 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓁𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝒻𝓇𝑜𝓂 𝒶 𝒹𝒾𝓈𝓉𝒶𝓃𝒸𝑒.” He continued to the door opening it, and found Himself outside. It was night, so there was no one out aside from the watchmen. The Wild Child stepped outside to his side, looking around for anyone. 

“So what do you plan to do?” The Cook asked. 

“𝒫𝓇𝑜𝓉𝑒𝒸𝓉 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓁𝒶𝓃𝒹,” He answered. 

“Just in general?” 

“𝒴𝑒𝓈.” 

“So you’re just gonna go then?”

“𝐼 𝓅𝓁𝒶𝓃 𝓉𝑜,” He paused. “𝐼 𝓈𝓊𝓅𝓅𝑜𝓈𝑒 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝒹𝑜𝓃’𝓉 𝓌𝒶𝓃𝓉 𝓂𝑒 𝓉𝑜 𝓁𝑒𝒶𝓋𝑒 𝒿𝓊𝓈𝓉 𝓎𝑒𝓉?”

“Well,” the Cook fidgeted, “I guess I don’t have much I can do besides direct you somewhere that can use your strength.” The Wild Child pointed Him somewhere he called “Akkala”. It seemed Hyrule changed much when he was out of commission. 

Then he did something unexpected. The Cook hugged Him. Is this what a hug felt like? It felt... nice.

“Thank you for keeping the Old Man safe.” Ah. So what’s why. 

He supposed that He would have to say something in return. “𝒯𝒽𝒶𝓃𝓀 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝒻𝑜𝓇 𝓉𝓇𝓊𝓈𝓉𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝓂𝑒.”

* * *

He always kept to Himself, traveling through the vast land that was Hyrule. He met many travelers alike, and even came across the Wild Child again. He dealt with any monsters that crossed His path, and anyone that was brave enough to confront Him would ask Him for help. He never minded, it was just like once upon a time, in a distant memory that was too hazy for Him to pinpoint. 

He was finally free, finally out of the prison that He became used to throughout his many years of confinement. He could do things on His own without having to worry about a host. He could have His own agency, He could run free! Of course, He knew He had limitations, He knew better than to wreak havoc. But still. He was grateful to the Wild Child for breaking him out of his chains. 

He was also grateful for the Boy finding him, despite the strained relationship they had at first. The Boy’s presence was always near the forest, but not as pronounced as it once was. He could tell he was at peace, and was thankful for that. The Boy deserved it. 

For too long, he was trapped. But now, he was unchained. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> so apparently LingoJam is not nice for some tech, so here's the original stuff. I hope you guys can tell who's speaking XD I might have to do something similar with Life is a Fickle Think now that I think about it...

He was trapped, yet free.

He had so much freedom and wide space in this own little prison void He inhabited, but it was so suffocating and claustrophobic. He was vaguely aware of the mask that He inhabited’s surrounding environment. It felt wooden, small, and smelled like old wooden furniture with a hint of dustiness. 

He didn't remember what interacting with others was like anymore. He only remembered interacting with a small boy that had been shaped into a weapon, but that boy didn't like Him. Well, that boy was a man now; a married man that lived on a ranch, safe from his trauma. Safe from _Him_. 

He didn't understand why the Boy was so afraid of Him. No, it wasn't hatred. It was fear. He was sure he would never understand, as the Boy would never rely on Him for anything anymore. Perhaps it was the power that He granted him? He thought He was helping. Perhaps He gave him _too_ much power in so much that it spooked him. Perhaps it was because He saved him in an unconventional way. The Boy’s eye had been scarred and ruined, so He saved it. And with that, He decided to mark him, so He would know if he was hurt. The eye became pure white and able to see the truth, also allowing Him to see through the Boy’s eye, which He supposed the Boy didn’t appreciate. 

So when He felt cool fresh air waft from above and something warm and calloused - a hand - grab the mask, He was utterly surprised. It was always a strange sensation to be held, or even feel anything in that regard. It was like hands on his shoulders or cupping his face. If surrounded by something else, it felt like a blanket. But it was always faint, just like everything else. He couldn't hear or feel the outside well and he was practically blind to the outside, but he had a fairly good sense of smell. He was set in another container; it smelled leathery, and felt malleable, something He was familiar with. It seemed the Boy was going traveling again, and whatever he was doing, he felt the need to bring Him. This must be very important. He was tempted to see what the Boy was seeing, but decided against it. Maybe later. He knew He wasn’t going to leave the bag for a while. 

He didn’t expect to feel very prominent magic at the very beginning of this journey. He felt it grow closer and wash over Him, like going through a barrier made of water. He heard distant, muffled voices. Male voices. They weren’t alone this time.

This would be interesting. 

…… 

They had been on the road for some time. He heard repeating words, like “veteran”, “pup”, and “sailor”. They were so frequent that He guessed they were nicknames for the Boy’s traveling companions. He understood that they were all named Link, at least, that’s what He took from the voices that sounded like they were under shallow water. His curiosity took over, so He had taken advantage of the Boy’s eye and had looked at his surroundings when he had night watch. He saw the others the Boy was traveling with. They were all other boys, just like him. He could tell that the Boy had a fondness for the Wolf especially. They felt similar. He saw things that He could appreciate in each of the eight others, and could tell that the Boy had respect for them too. 

What made Him sad was that him taking over the Boy’s eye had spooked him. The Boy had taken His prison out of his bag and started talking to Him. He talked to Him! It had been so long since He had even heard his voice so clearly! But the words he spoke stung. The Boy said that He had no place here, that he didn’t plan to be taken over by Him any time soon, and that hopefully he would never have to rely on Him. Was that what this was about? Scared He might possess him like what Majora did to that poor imp? He had never meant to take over the Boy’s body in any way; He only wanted to help in what ways He could, even if He had to give the Boy some guidance. He was supposed to be fierce, yet He was being berated like a disobedient mortal schoolboy by someone who never grew up properly. 

He wanted to say He was sorry. But the Boy wouldn’t listen.

…… 

It was surprising, when He was taken out of the bag for a second time. He heard the word “sailor” said many times. He was set down on a flat wooden surface, and could feel two sets of eyes watching; one with curiosity, one with wariness. 

_“I know melodies that can make you know peace, and I have items that could drive a man mad…”_

_Drive a man mad._ Those words He did _not_ like. Whether someone went mad when they used His power, that is their doing, not His. He wished He could tell the boy otherwise. He knew the Boy would refuse to heed Him in any way. 

The one with curious eyes intrigued Him, however. It was the same cautious curiosity that the Boy had when He had first been given to him. Perhaps he would understand? He just needed to see if he was willing to listen.

…… 

It was… He didn’t know much time passed, but it was a short while after being taken out of the adventure pouch a second time that He felt hands hold the mask again. They felt smaller than the Boy’s hands, just like the first time He was held by him. He couldn't see what this new child looked like, but He could hear his voice clearly this time. 

“The Old Man told me you were dangerous,” this new curious soul asked, “I probably shouldn't be talking to you, but I want to know. Are you listening?” 

He couldn’t hold in His excitement. “I am listening.”

“I can feel a lot of power coming from you. I know that power can be used in many awful ways.” 

“That is the fault of the one that uses my power. I never tried to harm the Boy in any way.” 

“Who’s the Boy?”

“The one you call the ‘Old Man’.”

The sailor thought about His words. “I think he’s scared of you.” 

“He is.” 

“It’s for a good reason I think. But you don’t seem like a bad guy. But I’ve been wrong about that before…” 

“I certainly don’t think I’m a bad guy.”

“What are your motives?”

“To help.” 

“In what way?”

“Help the ones who are in need of justice.” 

“What other motives?”

He thought briefly. What else did He want? “I would like to get out of this prison.” 

“That’s a prison? … well, I guess that’s obvious.”

“A powerful demon is responsible for this. I don’t know how to get out, either.” 

“Maybe…” the Sailor halted that train of thought. “I shouldn’t dabble in things I don’t know enough about.”

“The least you can do is put the mask on. Let me stretch a bit.” 

“...what’s in it for me?”

“You’ll feel rejuvenated. I promise no harm will come to your companions if you let me simply take a short walk outside.” 

The Sailor didn’t do anything for a good long while, besides set him on what felt like grass. He was amazed how the Boy didn’t wake up yet. 

“I don’t know if I can trust you.” 

He wilted. He may not ever get to be let out again. “I understand.”

Another bout of nothing. He felt a hand pick him up again. He felt cautious eyes scan him, looking for any ill will. Sympathy. 

The Sailor put the mask on. The void He lived in vanished, and was replaced with the sight of a campfire with boys sleeping soundly surrounding it. He looked down at His hands and His body to see it was that of a young adolescent. He walked over sleeping bodies and stepped outside of the circle. He planned to simply walk the perimeter and appreciate the surroundings and sensations He dearly missed. 

_“This feels so strange,”_ the Sailor commented. 

_“Do you want control?”_ He asked gently.

_“Uh… That would be nice, where are you taking me?”_

_“Just on a walk around the perimeter.”_

The Sailor analysed his words. _“I”ll let you do that, just don’t get carried away.”_

He could tell the Sailor was worried. _“I promise I won’t.”_

He stepped through the forest, listening to the chirping of crickets and night time creatures sounding off, and the trees swaying in the wind. He drew a breath of fresh air and let it out of His... the lungs. He felt so fresh, like He was taken out of a small box and given permission to stretch His limbs. He wanted to run, but He didn’t think the Sailor would like that. He did speed up His walking pace, however. He stretched the arms of the Sailor’s body, spun in place, jumped a bit, and took large strides just for the fun of it. This felt more free than being in that mask. There was no feeling of claustrophobia, no feeling of being trapped in a closed space for too long, He felt so _free_. He sighed contentedly when he reached the end of the circle around camp that he made. He longed to go another round. He knew He shouldn’t. 

_“Can I take control now?”_ The Sailor asked, _“... is that even possible?”_

He slipped to the back of the Sailor’s mind allowing him free reign. 

_“This feels so weird,”_ the Sailor remarked. He swung his arms, liked feeling power surge through his body. _“It feels great! … I should probably take this off.”_

He dreaded that moment where he would be pulled away from his new host. _“Will there be another time where we can do this again?”_

… 

_“Sailor?”_

Sailor’s eyes were focused on the Boy. He was awake. And both could tell that he was not happy. 

“Sailor,” the Boy raised his hands as if he were dealing with a dangerous beast, “take the mask off.” 

Oh, did He had _words_ for this Boy. He wanted to speak to him as an equal, He was ready to give him a reprimand that the Boy would always give him. _“I want to speak.”_

The Sailor reluctantly relinquished control, and He stepped up to the Boy. The Boy recoiled in fear, grabbing for any sword that was near him. “You are afraid of me.” 

“Take the mask off.” 

“Let me speak first.” 

**“Take the mask off.”**

“ **Let. Me. Speak.”**

The Boy shut up in fear. He knelt down in front of him. 

“You never listen to me when I apologize. I always want to tell you that I never meant harm to you. You are the only one that has ever used my power for solely good intentions. Everyone else used me to get gain and glory. You never wanted that, and I give you my highest respect. But you treat me as if I am a relic that deconstructs the sanity of my host. Which I am not, **and you know that.** I saved that eye, and marked you for your safety. I want to make sure you aren’t in danger. But you never let me help. Perhaps I never should have done that, but I don’t regret saving your eye.” 

“You use my eye to see what I see, and that’s not okay!” 

“I do that to know what is happening to you and what we both need to be aware of. Again, **for your safety.** You may not think it, but I have taken a liking to you. Like a son. Know this, Boy. You don’t ever have to use my power again. But I implore you; don't assume I’m out for blood and carnage. My ways may be messy, but my motive is just.” 

“Just?” 

“Justice for the innocent.” 

The Boy remained silent. 

“Have you not noticed that I have never hunted innocent blood?” 

More silence. 

“I do not mean harm to you, or the people you love. You are a good man, and have won my respect. But I thought you knew better than to think the thoughts you have about me.” 

“You are a war god, aren’t you?” 

“Not exactly. A god for justice, if anything.” 

He heard the Sailor comment something about that being ‘so cool’ in the recesses of the mind. He stood up from where He knelt. 

“I take my leave. Think about these words, Boy.”

_“Can I take the mask off now?”_

He really didn’t want to go back. He kept himself from protesting. _“You can.”_

He felt the dreaded pull away from him, and the vision of the night covered forest faded away, replaced by the white void he already grew bored of. He felt his senses dull, and His mind cloud up.

He heard talking. Was the Sailor getting reprimanded for something He did? He hoped not. He was handed back to the Boy and placed in the bag again. 

Hopefully the Boy will heed his words. 

  
  


…… 

The Boy had started to listen to Him more. That was a good start! He was more open to keeping the eye He saved open, unless they were in civilization. He could tell he was still afraid. The Sailor also let Him stretch whenever he had night watch, as long as He promised to help with lookout. They enjoyed talking to each other; He learned many things through him. They both had their suspicions that the Boy knew of their antics, but never did anything. He was glad that he was growing more comfortable. It was strange to feel like He belonged somewhere, but He knew it wouldn’t last long. 

The next time He was taken out of the bag by the Boy’s hands was when the heroes were fighting something dark, and sinister. It reminded Him of Majora. When he fused with the Boy’s body and mind, he felt apprehension, but not exactly fear. 

“You are not afraid anymore,” He said. 

“I…” the Boy hesitated, “I suppose I’m not.” 

He took a long breath of air, and looked at the opponent they were facing. “I can see why you called upon me. Use my power wisely. I know you prefer to have control.” 

He let the Boy take over, only guiding where the sword swung when his fighting stance slipped, which wasn’t often. He watched how the other boys fought with him, some saying a ways away, too cautious to take any chances. It was an exhilarating fight, it was full of surprises that even He didn’t expect. This demon knew how to pull its punches, that’s for sure. It’s defeat was still inevitable, with the Boy using His power and the help from the other heroes. It was a battle that ended gloriously, if He had an opinion on it. He hadn’t felt so alive in years, it had been such a long time since He had a proper fight. He looked at the other boys that surrounded him; they looked frightened, the Wolf especially. He felt the Boy’s hands reach for the mask. He wanted to stop him, but He knew better. 

It was back to being in his prison again. But He had hope. 

He was being handed to another pair of hands. They felt… almost more rough than the Boy’s hands. This must be who they called the Veteran. Or maybe the Warrior, he wasn’t sure. He felt like He was going through a magic assessment with how he was being looked at. He heard a muffled comment about His magic being peculiar and dark, but not malicious. Good. At least someone understood. He felt a presence that seemed fae-like come near and assess Him further. The Fairy didn’t like him, but agreed He wasn’t evil. He was handed back to the familiar hands of the Boy and was set back into his bag. 

……

The other heroes left for their Hyrules after celebrating their victory. He still seemed distant from the Boy, but he seemed to trust Him more than he did previously. The Boy’s saved eye was open for most of the time, and his wife was surprised that he had it open for so long. 

“Our relationship is still complicated,” he heard the Boy say, “but we’re reaching an agreement of some kind.”

He wasn’t put back in the box, thank Farore. He was instead placed somewhere else; the floor was still wooden, but He could tell it was relatively high up. He would hear a door open and close and voices, So somewhere in the house, possibly on a shelf. He guessed the Boy’s bedroom shelf, but that was before very small, tiny hands had grabbed Him off the highest shelf in the living room.

Just how many years had passed?

“And who might you be, Little One?” He was careful to be gentle with His voice, he didn’t know if this was the Boy’s child, or someone else. 

The hands startled and dropped Him, but they returned to pick Him up. “I didn’t know father’s mask could talk!” He should have checked in more with the Boy, he would have known that he would be a father by now if he did. 

“It has been a long time since we’ve been in contact, I suppose that’s my fault. Does he treat you well?” 

“Yeah, I have to work on the ranch, he always makes it a game! I love hearing his stories, too.” 

“What kind of stories?”

“Stories about his adventures! They’re so cool, I wish to be like him some day.” He wondered how the Boy thought of that. 

“I remember him telling me how you helped him when he was in trouble, is that true?” 

“It is.” 

“Wow! Thank you for keeping my father safe!”

He smiled at the little girl’s words. She seemed so happy. He heard the Boy’s voice in the distance. Not exactly angry, but not pleased either. Who would be if you found out an old dangerous relic was in the hands of a child? He felt bigger hands grab him and set Him back on the shelf. He was thankful that the Boy’s voice wasn’t raised, but he could tell she was getting scolded. 

The only other time, and final time, He was picked off from the shelf was when the Boy went out to war. It was their final battle together; the Boy was severely wounded beyond repair, and he was dying. He kept him alive as long as He could as they fought, but once they and their allies were left standing, once the Boy took off the mask, he collapsed. And he didn’t wake up again. 

He wasn’t one to mourn, but He mourned the loss of someone so great. The Boy used his power effectively and wisely, and never went mad for it. He thought of the Boy’s wife and child, how they would take the news. For the first time in His too long life, He felt remorse. 

Gloved hands picked him up from the wet grass. They placed Him inside of a bag that contained other things, most likely the Boy’s other belongings that he brought with him to battle. He was surprised that they didn't put the mask on out of curiosity. They must have seen what it did to the Boy and were spooked. 

The next time He was in the hands of someone, they belonged to the Boy’s wife. He could hear her muffled weeping. He wasn’t experienced in consoling others, as he was used to fighting rather than feeling. He did tell her that the Boy’s last thoughts were of her and their child, and that he was a respectable man. She kept him close for a time, finally putting him back on the shelf after she had calmed down. 

It would be a very long time before he would be found by someone as good as a person as the Boy. 

…… 

He didn’t know how many years had passed. It had been a long time after he had been moved somewhere else. The place He now inhabited smelled dusty, and of old wood. He forgot what talking to others was like, he remembered talking to a young Sailor that gave him a chance, and a Boy that slowly grew to trust him over many many years. He forgot what touch was like. He felt so trapped, so alone. He was somewhere hidden, he guessed that he wouldn't be found by anyone unless they digged. 

It took a very long time for that to happen. The hands that picked Him up reminded him of the Boy; they were calloused, but still relatively young. He was also reminded of the Boy’s wife. 

“The Old Man told me about you,” this newcomer said, “He said you were dangerous. Then he used you in the final battle. I’m surprised he didn’t go mad. I was scared of picking you up at first.” 

“Sailor?” 

“No, they knew me as the rancher. I didn’t know he knew about you, too.” Ah, so this was the Wolf. Seemed fitting, the Boy had a soft spot for him, must have been because of blood relations. 

“What are you really?” 

“A god of justice, trapped in a prison.” 

The Wolf never put on the mask in his life. He did take Him to the forest, where He could feel the Boy’s presence, and the radiating power of the Master Sword. He stayed there for a very very long time, until he was found by someone else, likely another hero. He wondered which one this was. The hands that took the mask were peculiar; one was smooth, and one was more rough than a hand should be. It was a strange duo, he figured it was the scarred one that was called the Cook. 

The Cook called upon his power many times, but not too much to make it unhealthy; he used Him to fight off monsters, help the people remaining in his Hyrule, sometimes even scaring others by just walking into town casually with the mask on. He didn’t know how he felt about being used for pranks, but at least his power wasn’t being abused. That much. He must admit, this Wild Child found ways to use His power for the most unconventional reasons. 

“You’ve been trapped in that mask for a very long time, haven't you?” The Wild Child asked once. 

“I have.” 

“Is there any way I can help get you out?” He wanted to help Him? That… was quite thoughtful. 

“I’m not sure there is any way to reverse this.” 

“I’m sure there is! We just need to find the method first! If people can resurrect Ganon, then I think I can figure out how to get you out of there.” 

The Wild Child kept Him with him, researching possible ways to help Him get out. They talked with one another, trying to figure out what they could do. He told the Wild Child about Majora, and how she was the one responsible for trapping Him in the mask, and how He wasn’t familiar with her power. 

Funny enough, he had Majora’s Mask as well. A nullified one, yes, but it was still the real thing. But they couldn’t do anything much since her presence was gone, save for some left over magic. It did give the Wild Child a guideline of what types of magic he would be dealing with. 

After many months of research and consultation with his Zelda and others, the Wild Child finally found a spell that could possibly get him out. 

“This must be what it feels like when people resurrect some evil being,” the Wild Child commented as he set up for the ritual, “Only you’re not evil. This is gonna be fun! I hope I don’t regret it later or botch it up.”

“I hope not,” He replied. 

He couldn’t see what was happening, but He could feel being placed on a cold surface, and something being recited in an old tongue He thought had died out. The Wild Child’s pronunciation was awful; He was surprised that he had conjured up any magic for the ritual. It surrounded Him like a blanket, He felt the thrum of power flow through Him. Then He felt a tug, taking Him by the hand to lead Him out, yet he didn't know where it would lead Him. The tug turned into a pull when He didn’t follow it. It was strange, but it excited Him. Perhaps this was going to work! He already could see only white, but that soon faded away to the darkness from the back of His eyes, and when He opened them again, it was like someone had placed the mask over their face, only He felt… free. It was just Him, in the same room with the Wild Child. 

Said Child was staring at him with awe. “I don’t know what you went through or what you saw, but what I saw was spectacular.” 

He cocked His head to the side. “How so?” His voice startled Him a bit. It wasn’t something He had heard in a long time. 

“It was a bit of a light show to be honest, very bright, and magic everywhere, it was like pulling out the Master Sword again, but a lot more showy!” The Wild Child stepped up to him casually, not caring that he was talking to a god. “You still remind me of the old man, and I kind of expected you to look like this, but it’s still very stunning! You’re HUGE!” 

He hummed and smiled at the energetic boy. He looked to the exit door of the room that they were in, and stepped towards the door. 

“I should have thought about what would happen next,” The Wild Child said, “I only had this moment in mind and was stupid enough to to not plan ahead.”

“You think people will be afraid,” He guessed. 

“Yeah, among other things.”

“It isn’t necessary for me to stay in civilization, I can protect the land from a distance.” He continued to the door opening it, and found Himself outside. It was night, so there was no one out aside from the watchmen. The Wild Child stepped outside to his side, looking around for anyone. 

“So what do you plan to do?” The Cook asked. 

“Protect the land,” He answered. 

“Just in general?” 

“Yes.” 

“So you’re just gonna go then?”

“I plan to,” He paused. “I suppose you don’t want me to leave just yet?” 

“Well,” the Cook fidgeted, “I guess I don’t have much I can do besides direct you somewhere that can use your strength.” The Wild Child pointed Him somewhere he called “Akkala”. It seemed Hyrule changed much when he was out of commission. 

Then he did something unexpected. The Cook hugged Him. Is this what a hug felt like? It felt... nice.

“Thank you for keeping the Old Man safe.” Ah. So what’s why. 

He supposed that He would have to say something in return. “Thank you for trusting me.”

……

He always kept to Himself, traveling through the vast land that was Hyrule. He met many travelers alike, and even came across the Wild Child again. He dealt with any monsters that crossed His path, and anyone that was brave enough to confront Him would ask Him for help. He never minded, it was just like once upon a time, in a distant memory that was too hazy for Him to pinpoint. 

He was finally free, finally out of the prison that He became used to throughout his many years of confinement. He could do things on His own without having to worry about a host. He could have His own agency, He could run free! Of course, He knew He had limitations, He knew better than to wreak havoc. But still. He was grateful to the Wild Child for breaking him out of his chains. 

He was also grateful for the Boy finding him, despite the strained relationship they had at first. The Boy’s presence was always near the forest, but not as pronounced as it once was. He could tell he was at peace, and was thankful for that. The Boy deserved it. 

For too long, he was trapped. But now, he was unchained. 


End file.
